The air inside Hogwarts grew colder with each passing day—not from the weather, but from the dread hanging in the halls. Students walked in pairs now, and professors spoke in whispers between lessons. Everyone was waiting for the next attack.
Harry felt the pressure of their stares like weight on his shoulders.
And Draco… Draco had stopped hiding his discomfort too.
---
Gryffindor Common Room
Hermione had created a detailed chart on a long scroll of parchment, mapping the locations and times of the two Petrifications so far. She'd used different colored inks, layered notes, and magical coordinates.
Ron squinted at it. "Still don't get what you're hoping to find."
"Patterns," she said shortly. "Magical attacks always leave patterns. Even when the attacker doesn't mean to."
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "So what's the pattern?"
Hermione hesitated. "That's what's strange. Justin was found near the library. Mrs. Norris in the first-floor corridor. Nothing connects those locations except—"
She paused.
"Except pipes," Harry finished.
Hermione looked up sharply. "Exactly."
"I told you. I heard it again last night. The voice in the walls."
Ron went pale. "If it can move around the school…"
Hermione closed the scroll slowly. "Then none of us are safe."
---
Slytherin Dormitory
Draco sat by the green-lit fireplace in the Slytherin common room, staring into the flames. Crabbe and Goyle were playing wizard chess nearby, laughing boisterously, but Draco barely heard them.
His mind was on the voice.
The one he'd heard that night outside Myrtle's bathroom.
He hadn't told anyone—except Snape. And Harry.
Why did I tell him?
Why do I keep looking for him in every corridor?
He thought back to the nod they'd exchanged in the courtyard.
It hadn't felt like surrender. It had felt like something closer to understanding. Trust, even.
And that was dangerous.
You're a Malfoy. You're not supposed to trust anyone.
Especially not Harry Potter.
---
Snape's Office
"Something's coming," Snape muttered, pacing.
His private chambers smelled faintly of ink and bitter herbs. A flickering journal sat open on his desk, annotated in both red and silver ink.
The records of Hogwarts' past attacks were sparse, but clear enough: last time, the Petrifications had escalated quickly.
He couldn't afford to wait.
He stopped pacing. A decision formed in his mind like a blade being drawn.
He summoned his cloak.
If the school was to keep its students safe, he needed to investigate the plumbing.
---
That Night – Beneath the Castle
Snape stood in a hidden corridor that only the oldest professors knew about. Water dripped from the ceiling. The air was damp and choked with mildew.
But he wasn't listening to the water.
He was listening for the whisper.
And when he finally heard it—so soft it was almost imagined—he followed it.
Torchlight flickered against stone as he moved deeper into the underbelly of the school. His wand cast long shadows on ancient walls.
He came to an iron grate built into the floor. Kneeling, he pressed his palm to the stone beside it.
The whisper was louder here.
Something ancient stirred below.
Something old.
Snape stood slowly, cloak brushing the damp floor.
Whatever was beneath the castle—it was moving.
And it was hungry.
---
Elsewhere – The Library
Harry had trouble sleeping, so he wandered to the library, telling himself he'd just reread his Transfiguration notes. He found Draco already there, standing between the Herbology and Ancient Runes shelves.
Their eyes met. Neither moved.
Harry broke the silence first. "Couldn't sleep either?"
Draco shook his head. "No."
They stood there, awkward. The candlelight flickered between them.
"Do you think it's happening again?" Draco asked quietly. "What happened years ago?"
Harry nodded. "I think it's already started."
A long pause.
Then Draco said, "I don't want anyone else to get hurt."
Harry's throat tightened. "Me neither."
They didn't say more, but something unspoken passed between them in that moment.
A silent pact.
Whatever this thing was—they weren't facing it alone anymore.